I'm in the kitchen, opening a bottle of beer, thinking about what a terrible brother I am when he calls. "I think I don't have to tell you this isn't a good time."
"How's your sister?"
I glance at her from across the room. "She's better now. Calmed down. Watching some movie."
"Didn't you have training at eight, Oscar?"
"I skipped it for today."
"Oscar Harris skipped training," he says. "Wow. You really must adore your little sister."
"None of your business anymore. Why are you calling?"
"Did you see her legs?"
"No. Why? Do you think it could be something serious?"
"Well, she said it's worst on her legs. I don't know how bad that is. I'm not clairvoyant. It could be anything. Could be nothing. Could be stress. Psychological stuff. I once had a patient who scratched her arms and legs until they were bleeding. It wasn't about an illness anymore; it was her mental state.
Mental stress often shows up physically. I don't know how it is with your sister, though. Could also just be an allergy—though she'd probably have a rash then. The dermatologist will know better."
"Okay," I say slowly. "That... patient you had. Did she get better?"
"She went to a therapist after seeing me. Unfortunately, I don't know more than this. She never came back."
"Okay." I look at Maddie. She just sits there in front of my laptop, watching her movie. She doesn't scratch herself in moments like that. She says it gets better when she's distracted. "Do you think the cause could be a traumatic experience?" I ask carefully.
"Definitely. But I'm not a therapist."
I take a deep breath. "Okay. I'm hanging up now."
"You're welcome, Oscar."
"Thanks. Bye."
Maddie's sitting at the head of the bed, where the pillows are, and I carefully sit down at the foot. She looks up from the laptop, and I meet her gaze with an apologetic smile. "Will you forgive me?"
She wipes her nose because it's still running from crying. Then nods and looks back at the movie. I tap her with my foot and she looks back at me. "May I sit next to you?"
Maddie looks at her fingers. "Only if you forgive me too..."
"Of course, bug." I sit next to her and we watch the movie together to the end, even if I can hardly focus.
whats in the bag? I text him when I get home after bringing her home. Then I look around my apartment and remember that he must have seen all of this. The pile in the sink in the kitchen. All the dirty dishes that are scattered around the apartment because I can't bring them into the kitchen. The worn out boxes, some so frayed that they are close to tip over and become one with the mess. And all the clothes...
Felix would be shocked, I think to myself, hoping he won't tell him. I'm ashamed.
Tomorrow
im alone now
So what?
What are you doing tomorrow night?
u know the answer
Same time?
no
going to training right after work
Are there days you're not training?
sundays and when i take a day off
can i look into the bag?
No
Keep Sunday free
No sex until then
from tomorrow?
From now on Oscar
but i didnt do anything wrong?!
It's not a punishment
why r u doing this to me
If you want to know just ask properly
please tell me why ur so mean to me
I scroll through the dance group chat and feel like shit. I haven't been to training for two days, and all I can think about is sex. What the fuck is wrong with me? I get up and at least throw the clothes from the floor into the bathroom. Turn on some music. Start doing the dishes. Halfway through, I stop because the music distracts me.
I dance around my room for almost ten minutes, slipping on the things on the floor, stumbling up again, grabbing a beer. I only read his message when I open the window and hear drunk people partying in the streets.
1. I like to see you suffer
2. You're hot when you're desperate
3. Hungry sex is better
what r u wearing
Wow you must be really bored
haha
tell me
please
You first
give me a sec gotta take off my clothes
Funny
I put my phone down and get up. It takes me a while to find it, but when I do, I slip it on and stand in front of the bathroom mirror. I'm not even drunk when I take the picture—in the pajamas, hips tilted, one leg slightly forward. Hell, I didn't know I could look so feminine. Apparently, I can. Well, if you really want something...
He's not online anymore, so I open another beer and light a cigarette. But as soon as my phone vibrates, I look at it again.
It's the dance group chat. I sigh and lie down on my bed. Open TikTok. Close it again. Open my browser. It's been a while since I watched something.
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Teen FictionHe would rather end up on the streets homeless than go back home. Oscar has three jobs, debts since he was seventeen, and a dream: to open his own dance studio and make a living from it. He wants his dance group to become famous. He aims to quit his...
